In the mean time Cecil was pouring out tea and coffee in the kitchen, where, for greater convenience, the table had been placed.
“Sigrid has allowed me to be lady-help and not visitor,” she said laughingly to Frithiof. “I told her she must be in the other room to talk to every one after the English fashion, for you and Swanhild will be too busy fetching and carrying.”
“I am glad to have a chance of saying one word alone to you,” said Frithiof. “Are you sure that Mrs. Boniface does not object to this new plan as to the partnership?”
“Why, she is delighted about it,” said Cecil. “And she will tell you so when she has you to herself. I am so glad—so very glad that your trouble is over at last, and everything cleared up.”
“I can hardly believe it yet,” said Frithiof. “I’m afraid of waking and finding that all this is a dream. Yet it feels real while I talk to you, for you were the only outsider who believed in me and cheered me up last summer. I shall never forget your trust in me.”
Her eyes sank beneath his frank look of gratitude. She was horribly afraid lest she should betray herself, and to hide the burning color which surged up into her face, she turned away and busied herself with the teapot, which did not at all want refilling.
“You have forgotten Signor Donati,” she said, recovering her self-possession.
“Ah! I must write to him,” said Frithiof. “I more and more wonder how he could possibly have had such insight into the truth. Here come Mr. Boniface and Roy.”
He returned to the parlor, while Cecil from the background watched the greetings with some curiosity. In honor of Herr Sivertsen, and to please Frithiof, both Sigrid and Swanhild wore their Hardanger peasant dress, and Cecil thought she had never seen Sigrid look prettier than now, as she shook hands with Roy, welcoming him with all the charm of manner, with all the vivacity which was characteristic of her.
“Tea for Mr. Boniface, and coffee for Roy,” announced Swanhild, dancing in. “Lance, you can hand the crumpets, and mind you don’t drop them all.”